One Piece : From Slave to Fleet Admiral Chapter 5 5

A desperate voice crackled through the communicator.

"Doffy! What was that blinding flash just now?! Are you unharmed over there?!"

A grimace contorted Doflamingo's features as he felt the agony coursing through his body.

"Nothing serious. How about your end? You wouldn't be calling unless something dire was happening—is it the cargo?"

"No, Doffy! It's the Marines! A warship is hurtling towards us from the island's southern sector! We must depart immediately. We've identified the vessel—it belongs to T-Bone, a subordinate of Akainu. While he may not possess immense power, he presents a considerable nuisance. Furthermore, given his standing as one of Akainu's trusted men, engaging the Marines at this juncture is ill-advised. We need to evacuate without delay!"

Upon hearing Trebol's urgent report over the line, Doflamingo's forehead started to bulge with visible veins.

His gaze shifted towards Jake, his shaded lenses mirroring the silhouette engulfed in a divine luminescence.

An involuntary tremor ran down his arm, and his animosity towards Jake intensified to an extreme degree at that precise instant.

However, even in this dire moment, Doflamingo maintained his composure.

He unleashed a fierce shout in the direction of Jake's receding form.

"Whelp! Regardless of which faction dispatched you, your head will soon be presented to me. I shall unearth your lineage, your origins, every facet of your being! None who are connected to you shall evade my retribution!"

Jake, with Monet cradled in his arms, offered no reply to Doflamingo's threats, his gaze fixed ahead.

A verbal sparring match held no appeal; his singular focus was on the rapidly diminishing duration of his experience card.

2 minutes and 17 seconds!

Beside him, the liberated slaves, armed with makeshift weapons, surged towards the dungeon's exit with palpable excitement.

Yet, their progress remained agonizingly slow!

At their current speed, they wouldn't even escape the dungeon before his experience card expired, let alone trigger widespread pandemonium across the entire island.

Taking a resolute breath, Jake clenched his jaw and channeled the last vestiges of the Holy Light within him, bestowing a potent buff upon everyone present.

"Divine Teachings!"

A remarkable surge of energy coursed through each individual, and to their utter astonishment, their movement speed more than doubled.

The slaves were not oblivious to the change.

Casting their eyes upon Jake's figure leading the charge and recalling the brilliant light that had previously illuminated the dungeon, someone initiated a rallying cry.

"Protect the Holy Light! Escort him to safety and get him out of here!"

One voice ignited the fervor of a thousand!

Like icy water quenching a roaring flame, the initially subdued call ignited a passionate response among the assembled slaves.

"Aid that man in his escape! Annihilate these despicable pirates and slavers!"

"Leave none standing!"

"Wipe out those insufferable vermin!"

"He must be protected!"

Despite the disarray in their shouts and the awkwardness of their movements, with every rallying cry, flames began to ascend towards the heavens.

These flames, unlike the radiant Holy Light Jake had wielded, were forged from the embers of rebellion—tiny sparks on the ground coalescing into an uncontrollable inferno!

Under the effect of Divine Teachings, it took mere moments to liberate every captive within the dungeon's confines.

The newly freed slaves, swept up by the collective momentum, eagerly joined the escalating resistance.

Jake, who had once been at the vanguard, now found himself seamlessly integrated within the surging throng.

Monet, nestled in his embrace, displayed a slight blush, her expression laced with concern.

"Jake, please set me down. I am capable of walking. You appear depleted—does this power exact a toll?!"

Jake remained silent, yet Monet's observation was astute.

The power channeled from the template had temporarily augmented his combat prowess to a significant degree, but the debilitating exhaustion stemming from the use of Holy Light was an unavoidable consequence.

For Jake, an agonizing sensation, akin to his skull splitting apart, made even walking a monumental effort.

Were it not for the sheer force of his survival instinct, Jake would have undoubtedly succumbed much earlier.

He understood, however, that their escape was far from assured.

Upon breaching the dungeon, they were confronted by a formidable cordon comprising the Aston Kingdom's forces and the high-ranking members of the Donquixote Family.

The disciplined soldiers of the kingdom, armed with spears and muskets, unleashed a volley of single-shot flintlocks at the fleeing civilians exiting the slave market—no warning, no quarter given.

Moments prior, the slaves had relinquished their weapons, some even sporting expressions of jubilation as they addressed the approaching soldiers.

"We are citizens of this very nation! We were abducted by those—"

However, before the sentence could be completed, a barrage of blinding muzzle flashes erupted.

The acrid scent of gunpowder mingled with the sinful luminescence of flames, spewing forth from the cold, dark muzzles, unleashing a brutal and wicked onslaught upon the defenseless populace.

This sudden, devastating assault, however, was abruptly halted by a series of metallic clinks.

A resplendent figure stood majestically amidst the chaos, his radiance utterly awe-inspiring.

"Holy Light Protection!"

A subtle, ethereal white glow, as delicate as an eggshell's membrane, enveloped all the slaves.

Bullets impacted this barrier, yielding naught but faint metallic echoes.

The subsequent employment of Holy Light abilities, pushed far past his physiological limits, leached the color from Jake's face, leaving it increasingly pale.

A swift glance at the assemblage of slaves, whose faces were etched with shock and utter disbelief, prompted a hoarse shout from him.

"Run! It's your only hope for survival! This place is no longer your sanctuary! Go!"

Without a moment's pause, Jake flung his arms wide, his eyes burning crimson, and unleashed an assault directed squarely at the approaching army.

"Baptism of Light!"

A holy sigil, spanning three to four meters in diameter, materialized directly under the marching soldiers' feet.

Prior to their commander's ability to shout the order to disperse, an intensely radiant light came crashing down from the heavens above.

The catastrophic force pulverized those caught at the epicenter, while the subsequent shockwave ripped a colossal fissure through the meticulously arranged formations.

Before Jake could utter another word, the assembled masses instinctively flooded towards the sole gap that had been created.

Even if the ultimate fate awaiting them involved the cold glint of spears and the blinding flash of swords—so what? It represented their only viable route to continued existence!

Monet, lending support to the visibly drained Jake, moved with the throng towards the newly opened passage.

Just at that critical juncture, a voice quivering with emotion called out.

"Sir, you must go first!"

Jake and Monet, reacting simultaneously, turned their heads to look—only to discover they were already enveloped by successive layers of human barricades.